Little Gem on the Wild Frontier
by KaleidoscopeKreation
Summary: A budding society. The nice girls watch the wild boys, rich families look for opportunities, and stable grooms and hired hands keep their jobs going against prejudice and in spite of dreams. And it is here that Bridgette Verdant has come to teach.


**On the Wild Frontier**

**Disclaimer: **Did we own Tokyo Mew Mew last time you looked?

**A/N: This is your co-pilot True Colours, introducing yet another co-written fic between myself and Essence of Gold. Though actually this is our first one for TMM. How long will it take us to finish it, now that the incentive of a deadline has been removed? Man, I feel old.**

**Allow me to tell you the story of this story. It was going to be a Western fic for Sakuuya's Genres contest, but it turns out that has a brutal oneshot 4000 word limit, so we couldn't do it. But we thought that, having written this chapter, we would delight you with it anyway. Aren't we kind? And allow me to tell you the story of this story's title. We didn't have one, so we went to our Daddy, who has a long tradition of lumbering our co-written fics with titles that guarantee that they will never get read, but at least mean they have a title and hence will get posted and also be FULL OF HIDDEN MEANING WOOT! So, he heard that it was about a character called Lettuce in the Wild West, and so he suggested we call it, 'Little Gem on the Wild Frontier.' Geddit? Geddit?**

'**Little Gem' is a brand of lettuce.**

**But Essence vetoed the fun part, which is why I am here, writing our cast-off message at ten o'clock at night, trying to explain to you all why you have been robbed of a beautiful pun. But I think I have rambled enough. I think I had better warn you that there will be AU-ness, the usual fluff that marks my footsteps and DUB NAMES.**

**No, wait, come back, uh...look, here's a chapter!**

The train chugged to a stop with a belch of steam, and Bridgette Verdant leapt to her feet, grabbing her suitcase and stepping from the carriage. She didn't have much, but the case was heavy: a battalion of textbooks, dictionaries and novels with which to regale the schoolchildren of the prairie.

There was no platform like in New York City, just a dirt lot with sheds for the trains, a bench and a ticket office. Bridgette stood where she'd alighted, searching for a familiar face. She didn't know who to expect to meet her. Her uncle and aunt? Or maybe one of her cousins? All she could see were other passengers hurrying away, and a few railroad workers. Bridgette looked at their swarthy faces and oil-streaked hands, and shivered at the thought of having to ask one of them for directions.

She turned again, and a glint of yellow caught her eye. A young man with blond hair, leaning against the wall of the ticket office. Bridgette frowned; surely he was much too old. But she'd only ever seen that bright butter-blond on one person before...

The man looked up and saw her.

'Bridgette?'

'Elliot!' she cried. Immediately his face broke into a broad smile of recognition, and she saw the fifteen-year-old boy she'd known shining through. He spread his arms, and she forgot herself and ran across the lot, suitcase swinging, to embrace him.

'Oof,' he gasped as she thudded into him. 'Bridgette, it's great to see you! How was your journey?'

'Fine,' she answered. She leaned backwards to look into his face, marvelling at the difference a three-year separation could make. Elliot was a Western boy, born and bred on the prairie, but after her parents' death he, his siblings and her aunt Renee had moved back east to take care of her, leaving uncle Wes to manage the farmstead. They had spent the next four years growing up together, but now it felt like forever since she'd last seen her family. Her father's will had stipulated that she complete her education, and her aunt and cousins had returned home while she worked her way through college. She hadn't seen them all the time she was boarding at New York City university.

'You've grown so much!' she exclaimed. Elliot was a good head taller than her now. His body had filled out, his arms had grown muscled, and his voice had matured from the huskiness of adolescence into a deep, rounded bass.

He laughed now, ruffling her hair. 'Yup. I'll have to call you "little sister" now, I guess.'

She smacked his hand away. 'Learn some respect! I'm a school teacher now!'

'Alright, alright.' He stooped to pick up her case. 'Come on, I rode in on the buggy. It's parked at the stagecoach station, just around the corner here. We'll have to hurry back; everyone's desperate to see you. Pudding's been asking for you every half-hour since daybreak.'

Bridgette smiled, remembering her youngest cousin, who had been seven when she'd left for university. Christened Lucy, she was always called Pudding because she had such a sweet tooth and, like a good dessert, brightened up everyone's day. 'I've missed her,' she said. 'And how's Zoë? And Auntie and Uncle?'

'All fine,' Elliot assured her. 'Good heavens, what have you got in this case?'

'Books for the school,' Bridgette replied.

'Ah, of course.' Elliot shook his head. 'I still think you're crazy, coming out here to teach. You could easily afford not to.'

Bridgette blushed and ducked her head. 'You were kind enough to take me in. I ought to do something. And besides, there's no point of my having been to college if I'm just going to sit at home living on what I've inherited. Or become a seamstress – ugh! I want to share what I've learned.'

'It's true we'd never get a college graduate for a teacher out here if it hadn't been for you,' Ryou agreed. 'It's lucky.'

'You're flattering me,' Bridgette said, but she couldn't help smiling at the thought that her teaching might be useful to these people. 'So, what is my class like.'

'Oh, we're a pretty decent bunch,' Elliot grinned.

'We? You're still at school?'

'I just turned eighteen. Most of the boys my age have left, but I decided to stay on. Don't worry, I'll help you keep order.' He bumped her playfully. 'Anyway, there are...one or two trouble-makers, a few young ladies who need taking down a peg or two...but mostly alright.'

They rounded the corner. Bridgette caught the unmistakable scent of hay and horses blown towards her on the wind. 'Is this the stagecoach station?' she asked. 'It's a big stable.'

'Yes – there's about twelve horses, all told, plus a lot of the townspeople leave their horses here. It's a livery stable as well, you see. The head-groom's called Pai; I asked him to look after our buggy while I met you.'

'Pai?' Bridgette repeated curiously. 'Where's that name from?' I don't recognise –'

'It's a Sioux name,' Elliot said.

'Sioux?'

'He's part Indian on his mother's side. His grandmother was a member of the tribe who first lived here, before the settlers came. They had a lot of horses, those people. Pai's family have been managing the stables for three generations.'

'Part Indian?' Bridgette was fascinated. She had learned about Native American tribes in college, but to actually _meet_ one... 'Really? What's he like? Do his family –?'

Elliot made an impatient sound. 'It's not that big a deal, Bridgette. In upbringing he's about as Indian as I am. And he's not to be gawped at.'

'I'm sorry.' Bridgette bit her tongue, realising that that was exactly what her questions had sounded like.

Elliot kicked a stone along the dusty road. 'Maybe if folks treated the Ikisatashi family a bit more like everybody else, I wouldn't have to throw Pai's brother out of the saloon every Friday night. Maybe his father would still be with us. Maybe –'

'His father's dead?' Bridgette blurted. 'That's...' She tailed off.

Elliot smiled wryly. 'You're not in New York State any more, Bridgette,' he said. 'It can be tough out here, especially for a man with a half-Indian wife. It can be dangerous. But look, I didn't mean to drown you in gossip within five minutes of getting off the train. Just treat Pai...normal, OK? His bark's worse than his bite. And he's a good guy, especially considering what he's got to deal with.'

'You do realise I can hear every word you say within ten yards of the gate, Master Coleridge?'

They had been approaching the tall doors to the stable yard, but before they could enter a cool voice issued from within. Elliot jumped at the words, and then laughed awkwardly and rubbed the back of his neck.

'Sorry, Pai,' he called back. 'I forget. It's spooky.'

He led the way through the gates and into the yard.

The buggy was parked in the centre of the cobbled space, ready to go. There was a man kneeling beside one of the team of horses, running his hand along its leg to check its hoof. At the sound of their footsteps he pushed himself up out of his crouch and turned.

'I've watered them and given them a brush over,' he said. 'It's a fine team of horses you've got, Master Coleridge.'

Bridgette looked at the man, the first person she had properly met in this new town. The first thing that struck her about him was his eyes, deep-set and nearly black. His hair, too, was dark, with a bluish sheen where the light caught it, but his skin was very fair, almost white. As she watched, he skirted around the front of the team, his fingers trailing along the horse's flank and then hooking lightly into the harness, and began to fasten up the traces on the other side. All the time, his eyes never left Elliot; his hands seemed to need no guidance to do up the buckles.

'Leather's a little worn here,' he remarked.

'I know,' Elliot said. 'Pa's going to see to it as soon as he can get a break from the saloon.'

'Hmm,' Pai nodded. 'I would imagine that keeps him busy. Who's with you?' he asked suddenly.

'Oh!' Elliot said. 'I'm sorry, I should have introduced you. This is my cousin, come down from New York.'

'Miss Verdant?' Pai asked. Bridgette blinked, surprised that he knew her name. She smiled and drew breath to speak, but he wasn't looking at her. His eyes were still fixed on Elliot, and he didn't seem to notice her smile.

'Yes,' she said, her voice coming out too loud. 'Bridgette Verdant. I'm the new schoolmistress.'

Pai turned his head sharply towards her as she spoke, like a wolf catching a scent on the wind. But he still didn't meet her eyes. Bridgette shifted uncomfortably. His unwavering stare was beginning to unnerve her.

'It is a pleasure to meet you,' he said, extending a hand. Bridgette took it tentatively. His handshake was firm, and his large, rough fingers enveloped hers. She felt their pads pressing into her palm, and he frowned, almost as though he were listening for something. He held her hand a moment more, and then released it.

'It's an honour to have someone of your education teaching at our school,' he continued. Was it her imagination, or had just a little bitterness entered his tone? She shook herself mentally. He was bound to be a little different, considering his heritage; surely he didn't mean to be rude. But still he didn't seem to be looking at her at all.

'I just hope that my brothers will appreciate that, and behave well in your lessons,' Pai continued, raising his voice a little. There was a snort, and a boy a little younger than Bridgette leaned out of a door to their right, a saddle propped on his shoulder, his eyes coming to rest on the group.

'Sure, Pai, whatever you say,' he grinned, meeting Bridgette's gaze with an aggressive stare. She looked straight back at him, determined not to blink, and was relieved when his dark eyes moved to Elliot. 'I know better than to make trouble in Master Coleridge's cousin's class.' He slouched across the yard and disappeared into one of the stalls, dumping the saddle on the cobbles.

'Mind how you put that saddle down!' Pai called sharply. Another snort came from inside the stable, and next to her she saw Elliot's fingers curl into fists. Pai sighed and motioned them towards the buggy.

'Everything is ready to go, and have a safe journey, both of you.' He turned his head towards Bridgette, though his eyes never moved. 'I hope to speak to you again soon, Miss Verdant.'

Did he mean, _tell me if my brother causes trouble_? Bridgette gave a nod and replied, as evenly as she could,

'Certainly, Mr Ikisatashi.' He handed her up into the buggy, and Elliot caught her arm and helped her into her seat.

Elliot clucked to the horses. Pai touched a hand to his forehead in farewell, and the buggy rolled forward out of the yard and onto the main street. The horses had just begun to get into their stride when Elliot pulled them sharply to a stop, to avoid flattening a man who had stepped out suddenly across the street.

'I'm sorry, Mr Bucksworth, I didn't see you there,' Elliot called loudly.

The man crossing the road looked up, and Bridgette caught a glimpse of black hair and ice-blue eyes as he turned back to the road, after sparing them only the curtest of nods. As he walked on his way, Bridgette noticed his shining black boots and crisp blue suit, and the imperious way he made his way down the street.

'Who was that?' she asked curiously, as Elliot shook the horses into life once more. 'He looked better placed for New York City than the West. '

Her cousin breathed out through his nose. 'Mr George "deep blue" Bucksworth,' he said shortly, 'on account of how he wears his blue suits everywhere. You never saw a guy like him. Owns the stage coach and livery back there, and the station, and has shares in a lot of the business in town – which is probably why he acts like he owns the entire settlement.' Elliot snorted. 'Just then, for example. He could easily have waited for me to pass, but no, he just passes on over and makes me pull up my team and wait until he's done.'

'What's he doing out here?' Bridgette asked. 'He doesn't seem like the prairie type.'

'Neither do you, if it comes to that,' Elliot responded, 'but I know what you mean. I've heard he already made a fortune in the California gold-rush; you'd think he'd take his family back to live the high life in the East.' Elliot pushed the two horses back into a trot as they reached the edge of town. 'Maybe he just likes lording it over us.'

'Maybe so,' Bridgette said. 'Um...his family?'

Elliot grinned, seeing her line of questioning at once. 'His daughter's in your class.'

'Ah.' Bridgette turned away, biting her lip ruefully. When she had thought of being a schoolteacher, she had always pictured a room full of bright young faces, eager to learn. But of course there would be older children, boys and girls Elliot's age, only a few years younger than her, and much more experienced in the ways of the prairie. Boys like –

'What's Mr Ikisatashi's brother's name?' she asked.

'The one we met today? He's called Kisshu.'

Like Kisshu Ikisatashi. Was she really up to this?

Behind them, the town slipped way, and the rolling prairie stretched out, as far as the eye could see.

'Bridgette!' A small, golden-haired cannonball slammed into Bridgette the moment she stepped out of the buggy, wrapping its arms tightly around her and emitting a high-pitched squeal of joy.

'You're finally finally here! Pudding has been waiting for _hours_!'

'It's lovely to see you, Pudding,' Bridgette smiled, taking Pudding's hand and allowing herself to be dragged toward the door. She glanced behind her, and Ryou grinned, then clucked to the horses and drove them toward the barn.

'Bridgette!' Her cousin Zoë bounded out of the house with almost as much energy as her younger sister, embracing her and unclasping her mantle in one swift movement. 'Come in, come in, we've all been waiting for you!' She released Bridgette and turned towards the house, and then Aunt Renée appeared in the doorway. Bridgette felt a sudden lump appear in her throat. Renée looked so like her own mother: the same bright eyes, French twist of hair and knowing half-smile. She walked towards Bridgette, more contained than her children, and pulled her into a warm embrace.

'Ah, Bridgette, ma chére!' she said. Bridgette blinked hard at the sound of the familiar, husky French. Aunt Renée cupped her face in both hands, gazing steadily at her. 'Always, you remind me of my sister,' she sighed. 'These blue, blue eyes.'

Bridgette swallowed hard, and a tear escaped from her eye. Aunt Renée wiped it away with her thumb, and then pulled her close and hugged her tightly. Bridgette returned the embrace, burying her face in her aunt's neck. She could never have her own parents back, but her aunt and cousins would always feel like family to her. She'd been away for too long.

She pulled away, and then Uncle Wes was there, smiling in welcome, looking just the way she remembered him from his visits to New York.

'Uncle Wes!' she cried, hugging him as well. As always, he was dressed in a crisp white shirt – city or prairie didn't seem to make much difference to him, but, unlike with Mr Bucksworth, it struck her as more endearing than haughty. But maybe that was just because she knew how unfailingly courteous Uncle Wes was. She had always felt close to him, despite the fact that she saw him rarely and he wasn't a blood relative – like her, he had been educated at university, and after her father's death he had fought for her place, politely out-arguing every college official who thought that it was "unsuitable" for a woman to enter higher education.

'Bridgette,' he beamed. 'I'm delighted to see you. Children! Let's not keep your cousin standing out on the porch; I'm sure she's exhausted after her journey. Bridgette, please come on in. Would you like some coffee?'

'So how have things been since I saw you last? I heard you run a coffee house in town now, Uncle Wes?'

Bridgette was sitting in the rocking chair with Pudding on her lap and a cup of coffee in her hand. Aunt Renée was standing by the stove, slathering preserves onto a fresh batch of doughnuts, and Bridgette was beginning to feel thoroughly spoilt.

'Coffee house by day, saloon by night,' Wes nodded. He chuckled at her expression. 'Don't look so astonished, Bridgette. I doubt there's a more respectable saloon in the whole of the West. The men in town were probably quite disappointed when I set up shop and filled that particular niche. But I had to make it an evening haunt to bring in enough customers. I've been trying to convince them that coffee is a much better pick-me-up than the demon drink, but folks around here are so suspicious!'

Bridgette laughed. Wes had developed his love of coffee while studying in France. _'It is so nice – and so rare – to meet an American who truly understands these things,'_ Aunt Renée would always say. _'You can see why your mother and I felt it safe to travel back to America with him_.'

'Anyway, we do good business these days,' Wes continued, 'and it's all very sedate.'

'On account of my arm muscles,' Elliot grumbled. 'It's alright for you behind the bar; you can't see what's going on _under _the tables.'

'Elliot,' Renée admonished, 'don't be saucy to your father. He keeps the saloon in perfect order.'

'I had to toss Kisshu Ikisatashi the other night,' Elliot muttered. Renée shook her head.

'Those poor boys,' he said. 'It is hard for them, after their father. And Mrs Ikisatashi, these last few months she has not been well. Pai has very hard work, managing the stable and running after those brothers of his...'

'Oh, they've got my sympathy alright,' said Elliot. 'I just wish that Kisshu would realise he's not helping either of us with the way he carries on.'

Bridgette slid Pudding quietly off her lap and moved to join Zoë on the sofa. It wasn't really a sofa, just a wooden trunk with a throw and some cushions over it – this _was_ the West, after all – but the effect was pretty, and reasonably comfortable.

'They're getting a bit heavy for a welcome conversation,' Zoë whispered. 'Sorry about that.'

'No matter,' Bridgette assured her. 'I need to catch up on the local news. So, tell me about the homestead.'

'Well, you know when...when we moved up to New York to live with you, the town here was just getting established. How long ago was that now? Let's see...you were twelve, and I was just eight. Wow, seven years. Anyway, the house we first had in town is the coffee house now. When you left for college, we got a homestead and built this house here. Most of the homesteaders are farmers, but you know Pa – he preferred to work in town. We're only five minutes drive out in the pony trap. We've got the whole house furnished now, and the garden planted up – we get heaps of vegetables: potatoes, squash and beans, all sorts, and Pa's talking about growing some fruit trees, up against the house...and business is getting good at the coffee house, now that people are getting settled and have some time and money to relax. Pa drives in every morning and leaves the horses at the livery stable.'

'We stopped there this morning,' Bridgette nodded. 'Apparently the younger brother – Kisshu – is going to be in my class. I'm afraid he's going to be difficult.'

Zoë shook her head. 'He shouldn't cause you too much trouble. If he's getting rowdy, you can always send him home – I know Pai wants his brothers educated, but he knows what they're like. He can't force you to teach them if they're disrupting your schoolroom. It's Corina Bucksworth you've got to worry about.'

'Corina Bucksworth?' Bridgette echoed. 'Daughter of Deep – of George Bucksworth?'

Zoë nodded. 'She shares a desk with me, on account of we're the same age and studying at the same level. She acts like she's better than all of us, teacher included, but she always gets her own way because her father's head of the school board.'

'You find her difficult?' Bridgette guessed.

'Very.'

'And one can see where she gets it from,' Elliot chimed in. 'We ran into Mr Bucksworth today, didn't we, Bridgette?'

'The Bucksworth's aren't all bad, though,' Zoë continued. 'Corina's brother is lovely.'

'What's his name?'

'Mark.' Ichigo gave a girlish smile. 'He's sweet.'

'How old is he?'

'Thirteen.'

'Thirteen? That's a bit of an age gap, don't you think?'

'It won't be in ten years time,' Zoë said, 'and he's real grown-up; he already works in his father's enterprises when school's on vacation. He's good with the horses; even Pai says so, and he doesn't let just anyone fool around in his stables. Now, Pai's alright. He's a little strange, of course, but at least he does his job, and he's polite. How did you like him, Bridgette?'

'Actually...' Bridgette bowed her head, '...I don't think he liked me very much. He never met my eyes the entire time –'

'Wait,' Zoë cut her off. 'Didn't Elliot tell you?'

'About his father? Yes. But is there something else?'

'Oh, that's absolutely typical of Elliot!' Zoë fumed. 'Just withholding important information and letting you flounder along in the dark. Ellie! I can't believe you didn't tell her about Pai!'

'Zoë, Zoë,' Bridgette interrupted. Zoë was often like this; she would get carried away and her audience would end up lost. '_What_ hasn't Elliot told me?'

Zoë turned back to her, still shaking her head in exasperation. 'I'm sorry, Bridgette. Pai never meets anyone's eyes. He's blind.'

Bridgette gasped. 'Blind? But...how? For how long? You said he was head groom –'

'I know.' Zoë shook her head. 'He knows those stables like the back of his hand. When he lost his sight, Mr Bucksworth thought he'd have to let him go, but he learned how to do all the work without looking. He was kept on in the end because nobody else has his way with the horses.'

'But...' Bridgette tried to collect herself. 'How did it happen?'

Zoë sighed and leaned in, her expression serious.

'It was nearly three years ago now. We had a very hard winter, you see, and after that there was trouble with the Indians – not in this town, but close. They hit a railroad depot to the north of here. And a week after that a group of homesteaders got after the Ikisatashis. They said Mr Ikisatashi senior was in with the Indians who'd been making trouble, because he married a half-Indian woman. Mrs Ikisatashi was away visiting folks in Wisconsin, or who knows what they'd have done to her. The sheriff had got things calmed down by the time she got back. But anyway, there was a fight, and...' Zoë bit her lip, her eyes cast down.

'And Pai was blinded?' Bridgette whispered.

Zoë nodded.

'And what about Mr Ikisatashi?'

Zoë winced. 'Dead.'

Bridgette put a hand over her mouth.

'It was a wicked thing,' Aunt Renée said unexpectedly. Bridgette jumped; she hadn't realised the room had gone quiet. She felt her cheeks warm as she realised she'd been caught gossiping.

Wesley stirred. 'Well, I'm sure that the action was directed against the wrong people,' he said. 'Mr Ikisatashi was a good man. But these Indians can be violent, and if you don't come down hard on them when they are –'

Aunt Renée's eyes flashed. 'Always,' she said, '_always_ you Americans are so suspicious of the outsider! Anyone who not follow your American Way! I see the way they look at me, my sister, my children – even you, because you have studied in France and you have picked up these strange French ideas! But you go back maybe three, four generation, and we are all new, all foreigners, and it is the Ikisatashis who are real Americans!' She shut her mouth and stood, tight-lipped.

The whole room was silent for a few long seconds. Bridgette looked at her aunt, impressed but more than a little scared. Then Elliot inhaled sharply and stood up.

'Ma, the doughnuts're burning.' The tension was broken.

'_Quel Dommage!' _Renée cried, jumping up and bustling out to the kitchen, where the smell of vigorously cooking dough and smoke wafted through to them. There was a loud clatter, and then Renée called sharply, 'Zoë! Come and help me with these!'

Zoë jumped up and followed her swiftly into the kitchen, leaving Bridgette on her own the sofa. Elliot went through too, and Pudding, always keen to be at the centre of things, followed. Bridgette turned to her uncle, who was sitting with his chin on his hands, staring pensively at the floor.

'Uncle Wes?' she said timidly. 'Do you think... are you...?' she trailed off, unable to think of the right words.

Wesley sighed. 'Aunt Renée has a point. People aren't tolerant out here; anything strange or new is hard for them to accept. And the Indians were here first...I didn't mean to suggest that the Ikisatashis in any way deserved what happened to them, but when I think of natives rioting anywhere _near_ my wife and children...well, you know how it is, Bridgette. Sometimes, when it's family, you'll do bad things to keep them safe.' He fell silent.

'Is it really so dangerous around here?' Bridgette asked in a small voice. 'I didn't realise...'

Wesley shook his head and smiled. 'It's not. This was three years ago. I know that doesn't sound like a long time, but you wouldn't believe how fast this country's developing at the moment. Things are getting safer and more stable all the time: more trade and prosperity, fewer dissatisfied people making trouble. Three years ago we barely had a town, much less a court and a sheriff. But things are better now.'

'Really?'

Wesley smiled more warmly. 'Really. I remember when town was a patch of prairie grass that I was helping to build a shanty schoolhouse on, and now look what we've risen to. A collage graduate for a teacher!'

Bridgette laughed a little, blushing at his praise, and let herself be comforted. It was clear that her family lived well in this homestead by the growing town. But a small part of her couldn't forget that the same year she had started at college, one man had died and another had lost his sight.

**A/N: I can't be bothered with another one of these, it's late and I haven't even hacked into my sister's account yet. Ciao!**

**P.S. Oooh, everyone must remember to check out our Guess the Author contest on GypsyxSilent's profile!**

**True xxx**


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